


To Want as Much as Need

by vasaris



Series: Liber Custodes [3]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, The Sentinel
Genre: D/s overtones, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vasaris/pseuds/vasaris
Summary: “Shhh, Mari,” he whispers against her cunt. “We’re in a library.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rivermoon1970](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivermoon1970/gifts).



It starts with a feather-light touch on her ankle and a near inaudible hiss. Maribelle Jones sits back a little, straightening from the hunch she’s been in for what seems like hours. Grey-purple mists billow out from every angle, as the Hounds unfurl from their place beyond time. The Alpha of the pack chortles at her, myriad tongues flicking delicately at the light that shines, invisible, beneath her skin, before bounding masslessly outward. It leads its brethren out in an expanding bubble of malice and foreboding.

Mari hums, setting aside the borrowed texts she’s been working on, inhaling deeply of the scent of ancient books and rich, dark earth that has always permeated the special stacks at Miskatonic University. She licks her lips, opening her senses further, tasting boredom and musk as something brushes her ankle again.

“If you cause runs in my stockings, I’ll be irritated,” she says lightly. A huff of laughter trembles silently in the air as the touches become more firm, swirling over the bones and sliding gently up her calves. Warm hands glide over the dark, gossamer silk that encases Mari’s legs, kneading and releasing in a gentle rhythm, before sweeping back down.

“Go back to reading, Mari.” The words quiver, warm and wanting against the inner hollow of her knee, as light touches nose the hem of her skirt upward. She can feel her lover’s hands lift one foot, then the other, pulling off the trendy high heels her outer identity of Diana Venatori wears to differentiate herself from the declared-dead Maribelle Jones.

“Zach.” His name slips out on a breathy moan as he begins to massage her feet, releasing tension Mari hadn’t realized she was holding. His lips brush her knee again, a suggestive nudge accompanied by the slick caress of his tongue sliding on silk. Heat pools in her belly – they aren’t alone in the restricted stacks; she can hear the footsteps of other visitors as they pace on the far side of the library.

His tongue swirls against the hollow of her other knee, and she sighs, letting him slide her legs as far apart as the deep-throated desk allows. She can only be grateful that the other side hasn’t been assigned to some assiduously studious graduate student as his mouth traces the hem of her stocking, and his fingers begin to play with garter on the other side.

Mari’s arousal fills the small study nook, pheromones overwhelming the ever-present scent of ancient dust and slowly disintegrating parchment. There’s a thump, and a string of mild curses somewhere in the maze of shelves. Not near, she thinks, but not far. Zach’s mouth moves up, his tongue hot against her skin. He traces words of love and devotion upon her flesh, leaving them to cool in the library’s chill air. Her breath hitches and she stifles a moan, words settling like brands upon her bones.  She feels the barest hint of Zach’s teeth and the barest graze of Zach’s tongue as he noses aside the dampened silk of her panties. Cool, want-laden air coats her tongue as Zach lays a brief, chaste kiss upon the lips of her cunt.

“Bastard,” she murmurs, sliding a hand into the rough silk of Zach’s hair as he ignores the roll of her hips, instead setting his attention to her other thigh, licking and nipping his way back down to the edge of her stocking. He nudges the band of hosiery down and fastens his lips, desire rising like mist as he marks her, biting lightly around the rising bruise. “Zach.”

“You should be reading.” His breath taunts her, hot puffs against swelling flesh, and she fists her hand in his hair. Even now, after a year together, and learning what it means to be human beyond being a Sentinel, Zach is a man of few wants – and a master at controlling _needs._

He turns to her other thigh, sucking a matching mark onto her skin as he catches a wayward hand, threading their fingers together as he kisses his way inward.

“May I?” he asks, running his tongue lightly against her outer folds, and Mari’s hips jerk in a demanding reply. He laughs, the vibrations of his mirth sending little shockwaves through her belly, and she pulls on his hair in silent command.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, and Mari sighs, throwing her head back as he tongues her open, luxuriating, as he always does, in the scent-flavor-feel of her. One hand glides up, taking control of Mari’s not-so-subtle undulations. She desperately stifles moans at the long, swirling slither of his tongue, from hole to clit, and whimpers as he releases her hand to slip a finger inside of her. The gasp that escapes her explodes upon the silent air.

“Shhh, Mari,” he whispers against her cunt. “We’re in a library.”

“Please,” she murmurs, sub-vocal, fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair. “Please, Zach.”

He sucks on her clit, tongue delicately pushing aside the hood. A second finger joins the first, fucking her with aching slowness.

Mari’s free hand skims up her belly, fumbling slightly as she slides mother-of-pearl buttons from fiddly buttonholes. Her nipples, already semi-alert in the chill of the library, stand at attention beneath the soft angora of her sweater. Mari slips her hand over the smooth silk of her bra, letting the fabric glide sweetly over the sensitive nub.

Part of her tries to listen – someone could step through the gap in the bookcases that wall in the study nook – but her awareness is filled by the wet slide of Zach’s fingers and the clever dance of his tongue. It’s all Mari can do to keep the sounds of her pleasure muffled; a muted symphony in the still, cool air. He’s holding her hips still, hand hot against her womb, when Zach hums, low and deep. The vibration catches her by surprise and she shakes apart, pleasure trapped, soundless, in her throat. Mari can feel the curve of his lips just before he does it again, sending her spiraling through the star-studded void before she falls back into her body.

Zach rests his head on her belly, whispering her name over and over and over. She manages to slide the chair back and pull him up, taking his mouth in a claim as vicious as his had been gentle.

“Mine,” she whispers against his lips, before standing and shoving him into the chair. Mari leans down, cupping his face and licking her juices from his skin with an eager tongue. He moans, unexpectedly loud, and she swallows it, sealing him to silence with her mouth as her hands slide down his chest. “Shhh, baby. You wouldn’t want to disturb the books.”

Zach bares his throat, his hands reaching to undo his fly with shaking hands. Mari lightly slaps them away, using her own to free the hot, weeping length of his cock. He stares up at her, the midnight-sapphire of his eyes a thin ring around pupils blown wide with desire.

“Mari,” he whispers as she straddles him, and he politely lifts her skirt well out of the way as she sinks down, millimeter by aching millimeter. It’s his turn to stifle a moan, head falling back as she begins to move sinuous and supple. It’s a fair revenge, she thinks, rocking slow and subtle as he pants his desire into pheromone-rich air. She grips the high back of the chair and leans in, laying her teeth over the white, scar-like brand that marks him as hers. He groans, near-silent and shuddering as she sweeps her tongue over the sensitized skin and begins to suck.

“Aaaah.” She pulls the sound from him on a long and luscious sigh, moving her lips up the column of his neck and nipping sharply. His hips jerk up and she rises with the thrust, permitting him to go no deeper, and he grips her hips in a futile attempt to get her to move faster. Mari laughs against his throat, sinking back down before stilling completely, but for the rhythmic flex of internal muscles.

“Alpha bitch,” Zach mutters, running his hands down her thighs before curling them rest at her waist, nails brushing across her back.  “ _My_ alpha _._ _Please_.”

Mari undulates against him, bare belly brushing against the Egyptian cotton of his shirt, arms looped around his neck. She brushes his ear with her lips.

“You’ve been doing pretty well just taking what you _want_.”

The last word is barely out of her mouth when Zach stands, a display of Sentinel-strength that makes her giddy. Her back hits the only unoccupied area of the wall, a space between two heavy metal bookshelves, and Zach swallows the resulting moan, fucking her mouth with his tongue in syncopation to the thrust of his hips. Mari reaches up, grabbing on to the shelf supports for leverage as she pushes back. He pulls his mouth away from hers, bending down as she arches up, taking a silk-framed nipple into his mouth.

Mari’s breath catches, hot and liquid in her throat, as he sucks. One arm keeps her braced against the wall, and the other reaches between them, rubbing her clit.

He releases her breast with a moist pop, and he licks his way up her sternum to bury his nose behind her ear.

“I want you to come,” he murmurs, nearly inaudible beneath the wet slide of their bodies. “I want to fuck you full and smell my come dripping from you for hours.”

Mari shatters, keening in registers inaudible to the human ear. Zach buries his face against her throat as he comes, shuddering against her. For a moment, as they heave together, grasping at oxygen, Mari is overwhelmed by the smell of ancient tombs and forest loam, and she looks up, catching sight of dark, chocolate skin, and eyes that held glittering, malevolent eternity. Then the overpowering smell of sweat and sex returns, and the image is gone. Mari tells herself that the brief, wavering glimpse was nothing but an illusion.

She lets go of the shelving, resting her forehead against Zach’s as he slips from her body. He sighs, lowering her until her feet touch the floor. He drags a slow finger through the slick mess of their juices, coaxing a final, shivering orgasm from her overwrought flesh. Slick fingers trace the hollow of Zach’s throat, then the warm skin behind his ears, perfuming him with their musk.

“Zach.” His name is ripe and sweet upon her tongue as she pulls him down, drinking life-giving air from his lips. “Mine.”

He shudders at the affirmation, pulling slightly away. “Yours. Always.”

His hands brush her hips, and he begins to do up the buttons on her ridiculously expensive sweater, leaving a trail of semen and sex up her belly and between her breasts, tucked warm and secret beneath the soft wool. Mari laughs quietly, bringing his hand up to her lips and sucking their combined juices from his skin. His cock twitches as she laves his fingers free of salt and seed, and Zach moans her name as she tucks it away behind worn denim.

“We’ll be home soon,” she tells him, burying her nose in the hollow of his throat, “and we’ll have all night.”

Zach kisses her, sharing simple joy as he chases the flavors lingering on her tongue. When he pulls back, she can feel his smile resting, feather-soft, on her slick and swollen lips. Mari huffs a laugh into his mouth, breath and life flowing between them, like waves between the shore and sea. Her fingers linger on his cheek as Zach kneels, and she sighs as he nuzzles her hand. He pulls Mari’s shoes out from under the desk, slipping them back on her feet with the same whisper-touch he’d used to remove them.  He runs his hands lightly over her legs, leaning in close to the juncture of her thighs as he rubs his thumbs over the silk encasing the sensitized marks he left on her skin.

“No ladders,” he says, and Mari mock-glowers because she knows it’s a lie. She can feel two, though neither has progressed far enough down her leg to be visible below the hem of her skirt. She offers him her hand, pulling him back to his feet.

“Hey,” she says softly, “are you okay?”

“Yes,” he tells her after a moment. “I just… the library, it smells like _him_. I wanted… I needed to smell something else. To remember what it means to… to want as much as need.”

Scent memory carves deep, leaving traps for the unwary. Dust and earth – the signature scent of Alan Rho Petty, the man the media called _The Guide._ Once, Petty had taken Zach from a government that had turned Zach into an emotionless automaton – and then turned around and enslaved Zach anew. The person – the being, whatever Petty _was,_ other than terrifying – that they were here trying to research and understand. He’s the reason Mari agreed come back to Arkham at all, even with her new, rock solid, identity.

The glimpse she’d seen over Zach’s shoulder, dark-eyed and watching. Mari shivers, pulling Zach’s arms around her.

“I have a weakness for your wants,” she says, and Zach’s eyes smile, though it barely curves his mouth, “and I’ll always give you what you need.”

Zach nods. “I know.”

Something nudges her hip and she looked down. The Alpha grins up at her, something small and leather-bound wrapped delicately in its many tongues.

“What’s this?” she asks, taking the small tome. The title, worn to near illegibility, had once been picked out in gold on rich brown leather that was now water-stained and scuffed. _Die grausame Nacht,_ she made out, more by touch than by sight. Mari flips it open and her breath freezes in her chest. There, on the frontispiece, is an old, but eerily familiar portrait: a dark skinned man with wicked eyes, and a single word, written in a shaky but well-loved hand.

_Nyarlathotep._


End file.
